


Phantom Love

by Fairygirl34



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Lead singer Tom, M/M, Opera Ghost Harry, Sexual Content, Somewhat based off Phantom of the Opera, more tags to be added later on.....maybe, sort of possessive Tom, well more like inspired by
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairygirl34/pseuds/Fairygirl34
Summary: The Phantom of the Opera.A ghost no one has seen.And that was fine to Harry or the Opera Ghost as he was called, but suddenly everything changes when he is found out by Tom Riddle, world renowned opera Singer "The Angel of Darkness."What is an Opera Ghost to do?





	1. Act 1, Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this sudden inspiration to write a Phantom of the Opera Au because....I really don't know. But I hope you guys enjoy this.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Also I know nothing of singing or Opera. Sorry for anything that is incorrect.

The orchestra comes to a full crescendo, the sound echoing throughout the large Opera House, builiding  _higher, higher, higher_  until it crashes and burns within the hearts of the audience. The dark velvety voice of the lead role captures their minds and seduces the heroine and audience to believe  _his declaration of love._ Oh, how the heroine easily falls for _His_ charms, not knowing that she is just one of many to believe him. Everyone's breath holds deep within their body. Will she learn of her Love's true nature or succumb to the sweet sound of temptation? 

The Angel of Darkness is much too tempting for the heroine, she is _falling, falling, falling,_ until she can fall no more. Her song of inner struggles to fight or succumb, it pulls at the audience. Their judgment of the heroine is oppressive and daunting but they are also entranced with the scene in front of them. 

From the shadows, green green eyes watch in awe and wonder as His voice sings of love while dark undertones of manipulations and insincerity lace his words. They send shivers down everyone's spines.

The show is a success, and no one can stop praising the lead Tom Riddle. A prodigy with a voice that could cause even the most pure soul to sin. An angel of Darkness, one who many fear and revel all the same. Many Patrons stand behind Riddle, showing their support for his greatness. None can get enough of Riddle, and he basks in the limelight with a façade of humble modesty. 

During the day, the Opera House, Hogwarts, is busy with hustle and bustle as everyone rehearsing the next opera, dancers working until their muscles burn in exhaustion, music floating constantly until it is perfect and Riddle and the other singers practice their scenes until everything is mesmerized and perfect.

Nothing short of perfection, is the Opera House Motto.

But during the darkness of the night, when all and everyone lays asleep to the world around them, a lithe figure with green green eyes steps upon the darken stage with only a single candle. They call him the Phantom of the Opera or Opera Ghost, but he is just a human who lives within the attic of the Opera House. Giving inspiration and encouragement to those who need it.

Harry. His name that no one will ever know, even after he perishes and his body decays and rots back to the earth. But it doesn't matter.

Laying the single candle near the edge but not to too close to fall, Harry puts on the worn dancing shoes he had seen one of the dancers throw in a corner to lay abandoned. They would last him a little while until he could take the old ones from another dancer. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The exercises help to calm him. Slowly and gracefully, he begins the steps for a dance that has no routine but comes from within.

Harry twists and turns. Jumps and bends. Fast and slow. Movements that have no order but are just his pure existence in life. He may never become a part of the theater's group but dancing was in his blood. The shadows dance across his body and Harry can hear the orchestra playing within his own mind. The single flame and the light sounds of dancing feet are the only things visible and heard upon the large shadowy stage.

Harry never notices calculating and shrewd icy blue grey-eyes watching from deep within the shadows, hidden in one of the many corners of the Hall.

As the candle becomes a single stub with a dying flame, Harry ends his dance breathing hard, muscles full of exhaustion, and a bright smile upon his face. How dancing breathed life into him. With a quick blow to the flame, everything is once again enshroud in darkness.

 

//

 

Harry stays hidden within the attic where the old costumes, props and set pieces lay forgotten within, the _Room of Hidden Things,_  but it is his Kingdom. A place where no one dares enter in fear of upsetting the Opera Ghost. While rehearsals are practiced and practiced until no one can no longer dance and sing, Harry plays within his kingdom, wearing old costumes, becoming a King, General, ghost, even the occasional regal Lady.

It doesn't matter, Harry can pretend that he isn't a nobody but a world known singer like... _Riddle._

When it is safe to venture, Harry goes to the kitchen to see a plate full of lunch just there for him. He knows the cook does this to stay on his good side. A lovely Mrs. Wesley, who makes wonderful and delicious food. But he is thankful all the same that he does not starve.

He knows he has at least an hour before the cook comes back to make more lunch for the rest of the troupe, so he quickly eats his food and washes the plate, days it before putting it away and silently opening a secret passageway that no one knows about. It is easy for him to move around and bee unseen.

 

//

 

Harry doesn't know what happened. It was a normal night like always, with his worn out dance shoes, a single candle and the empty stage, a place where he could dance his heart away. It was the same... yet it wasn't.

Harry knew no one knew about him or had seen him, or at least he thought so but apparently that wasn't true because, there by the dwindling candle and flame, lay a single red rose with a black ribbon next to the candle. Green eyes widen in shock and it is like time has frozen.

_Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump_

How his heartbeat raced within his chest, he knew it was from dancing but also the fear of being discovered and removed from Hogwarts. His only home. He can't be discovered. He just can't!

Harry leaves quickly, blowing the flame out, not wishing to stay to only be discovered. The Hall is once again enshroud in darkness, allowing Harry to covertly move towards the hidden passageway back to his Attic.

The rose lays forgotten on the stage.

 

//

 

He doesn't go to the stage the next night, or the next, or the following nights after that. Hiding away from the world, as fear of discovery occupy his mind, he has hardly ventured out from his safe haven, only to eat. Too distracted, Harry barely notices when the attic door is creaking open, signaling that someone has dared to enter his domain. He quickly hides behind a large prop of a half made and half deteriorated castle piece.

It takes all his willpower and years of practice to be silent, to not let out a surprised gasp, placing a hand over his mouth for good measure.

Tom Riddle saunters into the semi-clean attic full of props and costumes, gazing around with a slight interest. The man walks slowly around the front part of the attic before stopping by a large crate and placing a letter with a single red rose with a black ribbon on top. He turns to leave but after his grey-blue eyes sweep the attic one last time.

Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours pass before Harry cautiously moves away from his hiding spot towards the letter and rose.

The items lay there so innocently, tempting him to read and Harry can't help wondering why _The Tom Riddle_ would journey up towards the room of the Opera Ghost.

An internal struggle happens before he finally succumbs temptation, gingerly he breaks the wax seal to see the elegant handwriting flowing across the paper.

 

_My Dear Little Phantom,_

_For many years, I have been curious to know more about you. I had always hoped to meet you faced to face. Then a fortnight ago, I saw you dancing alone on the darken stage. How entranced I was by your lithe and agile body and performance of your dance. You had truly captured my interest that night. I wish to meet you. I would like you to meet me in my room at midnight tonight. I eagerly await your arrival, My Phantom. I will wait every night until you show and I can be quite persuasive when need be. I hope that you will take up the invitation._

_Yours,_

_TMR_

_P.S. I do hope you enjoy my little gift._

 

The letter shook within Harry's trembling hands. His thoughts full of panic, fear, intrigue, and wonderment. He had been _seen._ He had been seen dancing by Tom Riddle. Harry didn't know what to do. Riddle wanted to meet with him. 

But what did Riddle want? Harry knew how dangerous and manipulative the man could be. He had seen it a many a times when Riddle charmed all those around him.

It didn't bode well for him.

Carefully, Harry picks up the rose. It's beautiful and in full bloom and Harry can't help but smile softly at the rare gift he received.

But now he had to be extra careful, because the Angel of Darkness was after the Phantom of the Opera. He couldn't be caught, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, kudos, etch etc. Tell me what you guys thought! 
> 
> I just realized that this entire chapter has no dialogue. Wow, I'm impressed with myself, I didn't even notice that I hadn't put any dialogue until I finished writing.
> 
> So I know I should be updating my other stories buuuuutttt.......I just really no motivation and I really want to finish the next chapters. *sigh* Hopefully, I can force myself to be motivated enough sometime soon, but no promises but I hate letting you guys wait but I'll try my best.


	2. Act 1, Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the awaited second chapter! This chapter is much longer and I hope you guys enjoy it. also, I want to make Harry and Tom's ages clear.
> 
> Harry is 16.
> 
> Tom is 25.

The invitation is ignored. 

A week passes with no contact with anyone, especially Tom Riddle. In addition, Harry doesn't even go to dance upon the darken stage like he normally would, too cautious to risk being caught. After all, a ghost is not hunted by the law, but a man is. 

Harry sits hidden within his little kingdom, singing softly to himself. He is no professional like the other men and women within the troupe but Harry thinks he is not terrible either.

Average, he would say. 

Singing and dancing are his life, his reason to continue living even when he was beaten and starved by his relatives. Memories of his large Uncle beating him for every little mistake, his Aunt berating him and telling him how his mother was a no good prostitute, only to die, leaving her only child within their care, and his round cousin beating him up because he could. He doesn't remember much of his mother, only that her name was Lily. She had fiery red hair and beautiful green eyes. She was love and warmth and safety. 

And she was dead. 

Harry was much too young, merely five years old, to remember how she died. An illness he believes but foggy memories of her frail body and ashen skin are the only things he remembers.

He never even knew who his Father was. Only that he was named after him as Harry James Potter.

Painful memories follow one after another. The most prominent....the day he strangled his uncle. How he remembers using the man's own belt. Uncle Vernon had just finished giving him a firm beating for something he no longer remembers. Hate. Unadulterated _HATE and Contempt_ had coursed through his small and beaten body, his green green eyes ablaze. Silently, Harry had grabbed the belt Uncle Vernon had just used on him and hit the man as hard as he could with his pain filled arms and struck. 

The buckle hit the large man in the face, right next to one beady eye. He struck again and again until the man fell down because of the pain in his face. Large beefy hands tried to grab him but Harry was much too focused to let that happen. The leather belt wrapped around the downed man's neck and he pulled and pulled and soon, Uncle Vernon begun to turn blue. 

He would have killed him, given the chance. He was so close to doing it too. Then Aunt Petunia came to see what was happening and screamed. Harry was brought forcibly out if his killing state and when he saw what he was doing, he let go of the belt. 

Harry would never forget that day. The day he almost murdered his uncle at eleven years old. He left immediately, from fear of what was going to happen to him and not wanting the officers to arrest him. Harry had found shelter in the underground caves of the Opera House and finally after days of waiting for everything to settle down, Harry went exploring. Finally making his home inside the attic with all the unused props and costumes.

It has been five years since that day.

Would he go back and change the past? Harry doesn't know.

But it is best that he doesn't dwell upon the past.

 

\\\

 

Riddle is once again entering in Harry's domain. The smaller male is hiding behind a large rack full of costumes and masks, and quietly grabs a black mask with emerald embroidery on each side. If Riddle is going to continue to seek him out, well, Harry is going to prolong it as much as possible.

Another letter is laid carefully upon a crate along with another rose.

And again, Riddle takes a glance around, though this time his eyes linger in Harry's direction for just a second too long.

Once the footsteps can no longer be heard, Harry quietly walks to his "mail".

It takes a little less persuasion within himself to finally open the letter.

 

_My Little Phantom,_

 

Harry frowns at the nickname Riddle gives him. It's too _intimate_ and Harry hates it. Like he and Riddle were _friends,_ let alone acquaintances.

 

_Perhaps I was too eager to meet you face to face. I hope I have not given you a grim impression of myself but as I mentioned in my first letter, you had captivated my interest. Perhaps, it would be in your interest to write a response to my letters, as a way for us to get to know each other. After all, it is not everyday one gets to correspond with an Opera Ghost. Please just contemplate on it, as it would bring me great pleasure to know you._

_Your friend,_

_TMR._

 

Harry scowled. Riddle's charms and manipulation would not work on him, not in the least.

He will admit, the man is very handsome in a dark beauty kind of way. Many men and women had fallen for his smile, and in turn been used to their full potential, until Riddle was no longer interested in them. He remembers all those female lead singers who had warmed the man's bed, even the occasional male, if rumors were to be believed. Tom Riddle is the Angel of Darkness, using his charms to seduce everyone to follow his command.

Harry crumples the letter in his hands, he'll burn it later tonight along with the rose before the cook starts on dinner.

 

\\\

 

The days pass and the letters and roses keep coming. Riddle is persistent, Harry will admit, but also it is quite annoying. There had been a few close calls when the older man could have seen him, but Harry is quick to hide. The Letters are nothing more than little tidbits about Riddle that Harry didn't already know, like how the man had everyone practically eating out of the palm of his hands. Though Riddle mentioned that he was a very _humble and modest_ man who couldn't have been where he was today, if not for his "acquaintances" as he called them.

The letters were also full of questions asking all about himself, but Harry never wrote back. In fact, this little situation was getting out of hand.

Harry didn't want to ruin the man's career, but he was not above pettiness and causing mischief like misplacing Riddle's belongings in places they would never ever be. For example, Harry had snuck into Riddle's lavished dressing/bedroom when he was sure no one was inside and moved Riddle's favorite black coat all the way to, Argus Filch, the maintenance man's room, and consequently, Filch's beloved cat Mrs. Norris had gotten cat hair all over it.

It was not a good day for Peter Pettigrew, Riddle's personal manservant.

Even the others within the troupe somehow got the message that he, the "Opera Ghost", was displeased with Riddle, everyone but the man himself who just brushed it off as having a bad manservant. Harry hoped it pissed the man off, being on the "bad side" of the Opera Ghost.

Harry slipped out of his memories as the attic door once again opened. The younger male already knew that it was Riddle and he couldn't help but silently groan. Why couldn't the man just leave what enough alone? Did his constant non-correspondence not get through the man's skull? Because he was sure he made it pretty clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with Riddle.

And the man was supposed to be a genius.

Yeah right.

Harry made sure his mask was secure and tightly wrapped a cloak around himself, just in case the man _did_ find him, which was very unlikely. The same routine happened again before Harry was once again alone.

He sighed. Harry didn't know what to do to get the man to stop. Opening the newest letter, Harry read with resignation.

 

_My Little Phantom,_

_How you wound my heart. You have not responded to any of my letters and I cannot help but wonder if you are shy? Why do you no longer dance upon the stage? I must confess that your dancing was like a breath of fresh air that had me craving for more. I even know about your little prank with my jacket. Are you truly displeased with me, My Little Phantom? I only wish for just one letter. Is that so much to ask? I am an ally, you can trust me, My Little Phantom._

_Your friend and ally,_

_TMR_

 

Harry scoffs. Ally? Impossible.

He throws the letter to the ground and sighs. The rose is like all the others, a beautiful red rose with a black ribbon. Riddle's signature gift. Harry can't say that he hates the flowers because they are a gift and it's not their fault he is so frustrated with the sender. He might as well keep them. Or at least, that was what he told himself, after getting annoyed after burning the tenth one he received.

Now the roses sit in an old vase, none of the owners or other employees have noticed has gone missing, sitting on a small window sill of the only window within the attic.

Why couldn't everything just go back to the way they were?

 

\\\

 

Midnight struck and Harry checks that the Hall is empty as it seems. So far no Riddle or anyone else for that matter is present but Harry is still very cautious. He makes sure his mask is comfortably snug against his face, just in case, he cannot get away in time. The worn dance shoes fit perfectly on his feet and deep breaths are taken to settle his nerves.

Harry decides to do one of the dances the Chorus dancers will perform in the third act in the new opera.

He can hear it. The violins playing so softly in the beginning before rising and meeting with the flutes and other wind instruments. The drums go _thump, thump, thump,_ and the music _rises, rises, rises,_ so much that Harry dances _faster, faster, faster._ He can hear the Heroine singing in his mind, her loneliness, and wish for True Love.

He doesn't even register that he is softly singing the lead female's role and slowing down his dance to make it easier for him to breathe and sing. Green eyes are closed, Harry just wants to _feel_ the music in his very _being._ It courses through every cell, resonating like a thousands bees within his body.

It's exhilarating.

Harry is so lost into the invisible music and song, that he does not see the very man he has come to hide from, quietly approaching him from behind.

...

Tom drinks up the scene in front of him, his Little Phantom's dancing could put all the others to shame.

It was fortune that he had decided to do his nightly routine of checking to see if the Opera Ghost would dance upon the darken stage. The Fates and Lady Luck must have been on his side, for he would not have been able to see the beautiful scene info front of him before.

His Little Phantom's voice is soft and angel like but not as deep as his very own. While Tom has a hidden aura of Darkness, his Little Phantom has an almost child like innocence and purity but also having seen many things within one's life. The shadows and single light from the dying flame dance upon the lithe figure and it is like watching an apparition bring forth a message from the other side and Tom can't help but _fall._

He wants him.

He wants to _own_ the being in front of him. And he will.

His Little Phantom is _sp_ _inning, spinning, spinning_  and Tom positions himself to catch the younger male within his arms, as is his part in the play. His character who stumbles upon the entrancing beauty dancing alone under the moonlight and stars.

How befitting their first meeting.

Larger hands place themselves upon a thin waist and entangle their fingers together in the other. His breathes in the scent of his Little Phantom, the body in his grasp, breathing hard but also very tense and Tom can't help but think that his Little Phantom fits perfectly into his arms, before whispering into the other's ear.

"We meet at last, My Little Phantom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, kudos, etc etc. Constructive Criticism is also welcome. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> The dance the Harry does towards the end, I totally just made up, along with the music and opera idea. I did used to play the flute when I was like 10 but its been a few years since I've played an instrument, but flutes always sound great with violins, so there shouldn't be anything too bad about imagining it.
> 
> So how did you guys enjoy chapter 2? I'm not sure if I'll have the next chapter be the last one or add one more after three, but definitely no more than 5, if I can help it, because I didn't plan on this story to be very long at all. So what do you guys think. Stop at three? Or make four an epilogue or something?


	3. Act 2, Scene 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything. Sorry for any mistakes.

_Th-thump..th-thump..th-thump..th-thump..._

Harry is frozen in place, body tense and adrenaline running high, but he dares not move a muscle. The large hand upon his waist slowly moves over to his abdomen before returning back to its original spot and tightening its grip. Riddle's mouth is still by his ear and he can feel every breath the man gives. It takes all of his willpower to not shiver from the close proximity.

But that takes a spot in the back of his mind as only one thought keeps circling through his mind.

 _He's_ _been_ _caught._  

After all his careful precautions, Riddle still managed to find him.

The other hand gripping his own, loosens and slowly moves from his hand to his arm, across his shoulder before placing it's self upon his neck. The hand leaves a heat trail and goosebumps rise in place. It's _intimate_ and Harry can't stand it. It's too much.

"My Little Phantom." Riddle purrs and Harry doesn't like the possessiveness he hears within Riddle's voice. "Let's go to my room where we can talk privately. We would so hate to have someone find us in such a _compromising_ position."

The thought of being alone anywhere, let alone the man's personal room, sends fear through his body, which spurs Harry out of his frozen state to try and move away from Riddle.

His goal: to get back to his safe haven. 

Riddle is surprised by his quick movement, and he _almost_ makes his escape, except Harry is tired and Riddle manages to shake off his surprise, and quickly latching onto his arm, the man's grip was definitely going to leave some bruising.

"None of that My Little Phantom." Tom coos. "I promise I won't do anything except talk."

Harry feels as if he is on his way to the Gallows. The walk from the stage towards Riddle's room isn't normally long but right now it felt to take an eternity before they reach it. He is tense and Harry knows that Riddle can feel it as well.

The room is large with a desk, vanity, wardrobe, a queen size canopy bed, and a full body mirror that Harry fully knows is a secret passageway. But he won't dare use that route when Riddle is around.

Click.

Riddle locks the door as Harry is left to stand uncomfortably in the middle. Soon, Riddle is in his personal space and it takes all of Harry's self control to not push the man away. It wouldn't do to make any reckless moves, especially around Riddle. Harry is cradled within Riddle's arms, one hand wrapping around his waist and the other gently wrapping around part of his neck and chin. The actions are pointed, a warning from Riddle, letting Harry know that he can easily be subdued with the position he's in.

"How I've long to meet you, My Little Phantom." Riddle whispers, almost lovingly. "A Gem that I have discovered all for myself."

Harry says nothing, hoping that maybe Riddle would leave him alone. Sadly, it only makes the man hold just a little tighter when he doesn't respond. They stand in that same position for what seems like hours until he is suddenly thrown onto the bed with Riddle hovering over him.

Harry is lucky his mask is still on his face because he is blushing at the position the two of them are in but anger and stubborn clearly show themselves within his green eyes. He won't be subdued. He'll fight with everything he has.

Long pale fingers trace over the mask, and Harry fears the man will rip it off of him. 

Riddle smirks and Harry wants to punch it off the man. "I hope you will talk Darling. It's no fun having a one-sided conversation."

Like Hell he would talk. He's going to make this hard for Riddle, in any way he can.

Harry can tell that Riddle doesn't like it because the smirk falls of his face to give way to narrowed eyes and a frown. Riddle looks like a fallen angel as he grabs Harry's chin roughly while pinning his thin wrists above his head with the other. The charming persona is finally off and Harry can't help but glare in response and smile cruelly back. The true face of Tom Riddle has shown himself.

"It's best to do what you are told." Riddle hisses, before smirking.

Harry narrows his eyes suspiciously. Riddle changed moods much too quickly. He was planning something.

"If you don't speak, I'll rip the mask off your face to see what your hiding. And I bet that no one knows that you are not a real ghost." Riddle blackmails. "I wonder what the owners will think when I tell them that I have found a suspicious person pretending to be a ghost and living in Hogwarts? Hm?" Riddle smiles smugly and Harry can't help but hate the man before him. The Angel of Darkness.

"Well My Little Phantom?"

Harry sneers in response. "This is why I didn't want to meet you Tom Riddle. I want nothing to do with you and your manipulative ways."

Riddle chuckles before leaning into Harry's ear. "You have everything to do with me. _You are Mine now._ "

The words send a foreboding chill down Harry's spine.

 

\\\

 

Since the first meeting, Harry has tried to keep away from Riddle. Some days the man indulges him and others he threatens to tell the owners about how he is not a real ghost. On the days Riddle threatens, Harry grudgingly goes to meet the man in his room, using the secret passageway from behind the full body mirror but only when the man is not inside. He can't be kicked out of Hogwarts. Its his only home.

Harry hates to admit it, but in the weeks since beginning his interactions with Riddle, Harry has concluded that the man is _not all_ bad but Harry still hates him all the same. Though most of the time, Riddle likes to fluster Harry, making his heart beat rapidly. It doesn't help when Riddle teases him or makes innuendos that Harry has no idea to respond to, except blush behind his mask.

They talk occasionally but mostly their nights are spent with Harry dancing and singing from different plays while Riddle sits and watches the entire thing with hungry eyes. As if Harry was his personal entertainer and does his best to ignore the man's intense gaze.

Harry enjoys their witty banter and has come to enjoy it, though he will never admit it to Riddle because it would just stroke his ego more, making it too large before it suffocates the entire room. Honestly, how no one has figured out that Tom Riddle believes himself to be better than everyone around him, Harry will never know.

It's another night where Harry needs to go to Riddle's room. His steps are quiet and barely echo throughout the passageway. He stops just at the entrance. The mirror is not only a door to a passageway, but the glass from where Harry is, allows him to see into the room while on the other side, no one can see in. If he steps closer, it might be possible for Riddle to see him but he never chances it.

And he doesn't need to worry because Riddle is busy.

There is a woman that Harry recognizes as Bellatrix Lestrange, a noble lady who is easily known through high society to be deeply infatuated with Riddle. A woman who is quite a beauty with a curvy body and black curly hair that someone could run their fingers through..... and that is what Riddle is doing.

They are in a deep kiss and Harry can't help but wonder what the pain in his chest is.

He watches as their hands roam all over each others bodies and when they move towards the bed, Harry can't watch anymore. He turns to leave but Riddle's gaze moves towards the mirror where Harry has no doubt that the man can make a vague impression of his figure. Soon Bellatrix grabs his attention and Harry takes that opportunity to leave and not look back.

He should have known better than to think that Riddle wouldn't do something like this.

The least the man could have done was let him know he was going to be busy tonight. But he's just a "Ghost".

And Ghosts aren't important in normal people's lives.

 

\\\

 

Harry ignores every letter and every visit Riddle gives him, never meeting or responding. He hides out in the passageways, learning and listening if Riddle has told the owners about him. So far nothing, which puts his mind at slight ease.

Never has Harry felt the loneliness more pronounced since his interaction with Riddle. Even his _Room of Hidden Things_ feels too claustrophobic and empty. Neither dancing nor singing can heal the pain he feels. His heart is constantly hurting. It must be betrayal because even though Riddle was a huge prat, he was the only friend Harry had ever had. And Harry hates that he had thought that they were friends - or at least a little more than acquaintances.

He forgot, for just a moment, that Riddle is a manipulator and he played Harry like a well-tuned instrument. Well no more. Harry would not let down his guard around Riddle or anyone else for that matter.

Letters and flowers are burned, never opened or looked upon. Harry is extra careful, never going to the stage but to the underground caves where he knows no one will ever find him.

And if he cries in despair, no one is their to see it.

Harry knows that it will pass and then he can forget all about Tom Riddle. This was exactly what he wanted anyway. For things to go back to the way they were.

.

Yet, it's not as appealing as it was in the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, kudos, etc etc. So did you guys like this chapter? I hoped I kept them in character as best as possible. Constructive Criticism is also welcome.
> 
> Also a side note, Harry doesn't wear glasses in this fic because it would be difficult to wear glasses behind a mask and I don't think contacts were invented in the 1800s.
> 
> So how's this for a Valentine? ;)


	4. Act 2, Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything and sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> Here is the long awaited chapter four! I hope you guys appreciate this super long a** chapter.

Months pass since their last interaction, and before Harry knows it, his birthday is almost here. On July 31st, Harry will be seventeen years old. Of course, there won't be any party, cake or gifts but Harry doesn't let it bother him. In fact, a new play is going to début on his birthday and Harry considers it his only birthday gift. An interesting play to be sure. One that hasn't been done before at Hogwarts.

It's about a man who enters a magical city of the dead and has to try and leave before three days end and possibly defeat the evil Sorcerer who controls the city or he will be stuck there for all eternity.

The new play is almost enough to distract him from Riddle. _Almost._

Riddle is still persistent in trying to get in touch with him, though it seems he is finally backing off as the letters and roses aren't as frequent as they once were. If Harry is _slightly disappointed_ with the decrease in... _attention_ he receives from Riddle, there is no one close to Harry to ever know.

In fact, the once huge pain in his heart is almost gone, and Harry is thankful for that.

Though occasionally it still appears whenever Harry manages to catch a glimpse of Riddle, especially when he is surrounded by others.

Harry completely throws the thought of Riddle to the back of his head. 

He doesn't need the bastard. He's content with being ignored. He's practically lived his whole life in the shadows. First at his relatives home and now here in the Opera House. Harry James Potter is perfectly happy with how everything has worked out.

Harry hums as places his mask back on his face and a large black cloak to help him blend into the shadows. He knows that the owners always leave one of the top boxes empty for him to watch the play. Of course, he never appears in it because Harry doesn't want to be seen, especially now. But because tonight is special, he is still deciding whether he should sit in the top box or in his normal spot hidden away from the crew and over the stage. Really, they are both good options.

The creak from the attic door alerts Harry to quickly hide.

Green eyes narrow as Tom Riddle enters once again into his domain. However, the man doesn't come with a letter or rose but begins to look quickly through all the props and costumes. He is a man with a mission and Harry has a feeling that he is who Riddle is looking for.

"Come out now, My Little Phantom." Riddle growls. "You cannot hide from me for ever. And I know that you have not left the Opera House."

Crash!

Props are thrown down and Harry wonders if the sound has echoed throughout most of the Opera Ghost. He focuses on quietly tip toeing around Riddle but it is quiet difficult as the man is constantly moving around and in every direction to find Harry no matter what.

If he can just get towards one of the darker corners where he would be able to blend then he would be safe. He wanted to escape through the attic door but Harry knows that he would never make it down before Riddle managed to ensnare him. The best option right now is to wait until Riddle has to leave for the start of the Opera.

"Where are you hiding?!" Riddle hisses, blue-grey eyes ablaze and Harry can't help but think that they look as dangerous and bright as a blizzard.

Crashes and angry stomps continue on and Harry hopes with his very being that Riddle will leave soon. The moments pass, seeming like an eternity and with all the noises being made, Harry barely recognizes the sound of the creaky attic door opening and closing.

Its minutes before Harry realizes that the attic is silent. _Too Silent._

Harry's gut is telling him that the danger isn't over yet. His gut has never been wrong before but he really wants to move and see if the danger is gone. If there is one thing that is just as bad is his stubbornness, is his high level and somewhat dangerous curiosity. The internal battle is rough but eventually, curiosity wins out. Harry carefully and silently moves from his hiding spot, crouch and ready to _F_ _ight or Flight_ if need be.

Turning slowly in a circle, Harry keeps his eyes moving to and fro, however, he is distracted and thus, misses the looming dark figure slowly creep up behind him.

Harry is tackled to the ground by a heavy weight and fear and adrenaline are coursing through Harry's veins. _Fight! Fight! Fight!_ His brain is screaming. His frantic mind barely registers that the weight is human shaped and obviously a male.

"You are mot escaping me, My Little Phantom." A dark voice says dangerously.

Harry freezes in place for only a second, before fighting even harder to escape. Harry is flipped onto his back, hands lifted above his head and pinned by a larger hand with Riddle's entire body and weight pressing against his own smaller body. Green eyes close in hopes that it is just a nightmare that he will soon wake up from.

"Open your eyes." Riddle demands.

Harry shakes his head, stubborn and determined to kepp resisting Fiddle for as long as possible. He hadn't survived this long by being weak willed.

"Open your eyes!"

"No."

Riddle is breathing hard in anger and Harry imagines that Riddle is looking like a devil with an angel's looks.

"Why haven't you been responding to my letters or speaking with me?"

Harry purses his lips into a thin line, a way to not say anything. Harry just wants the man to leave already. He doesn't want to relive that horrible memory and give Riddle _any form_ of weaknesses that the man could use against him. 

"Answer me!" Riddle practically yells in his face. Harry's silence only makes the man even frustrated and angry. "If you won't tell me, I'll force you. And I'll start by taking that mask off and using all and any means to get you to talk."

This makes Harry angry. Who does Riddle think he is? Just because the man is a famous singer, does not allow him to dictate anything anyone or Harry do and does. Yes, the man can take his mask, but Harry will never submit himself to Riddle.

"Does it anger you that you can't _'have'_ me Riddle?" Harry taunts. "That I stopped communication without your say so? Hmm?"

A cruel smirk makes its way upon Riddle's features, one that Harry still does not see because his eyes are still closed. Riddle leans in closer and Harry can feel the tiny breaths against his ear.

"If I answer will you be satisfied?" Riddle squeezes Harry's wrists painfully, making him wince a little but he mostly ignores it as he waits for Riddle to continue. "It angers me to think that you think you can walk away whenever you want. That you can just walk out of  _MY LIFE_ whenever you want!"

Harry was silent for only a moment, trying to process what Riddle was saying, before getting angry. Vibrant emerald green eyes open, full of pain and anger and frustration towards the man holding him down.

"You didn't _need me!_ I was only entertainment for you! Something like a new toy until you became bored!" Harry argues. "I saw you! I saw you with  _HER! I SAW YOU WITH BELLATRIX LESTRANGE!_ So don't tell me that _You Need Me! Because you obviously DON'T._ "

Harry is breathing hard and somehow feels lighter from releasing all his pent up anger, betrayal, and sadness. When Harry focuses back on Riddle, it is too find a face full of shock on the older man's face, one that has never appeared before that has been truly genuine and not because of acting. Harry is kind of amazed that he made the Tom Riddle shocked beyond words.

Riddle sighs in what sounds like relief, effectively confusing and tiring Harry. Too many emotions, more than he was used to going through in such a short period of time, is draining him with each passing minute.

"So it was you. I thought I was going crazy." Riddle murmurs to himself but obviously Harry can hear because they are so close to each other. Blue-grey eyes bore into emerald green and Harry notices the sudden truthfulness they are exhibiting. Something that Riddle would consider a weakness and let no one ever see.

"It's true that I was with Bellatrix but I didn't sleep with her." Harry scoffs at this but Riddle continues on. "I have slept with her in the past, along with many others, as I am sure you know. However, after I started spending time with you, I found that no one else could keep my attention as much as you did. It was maddening because I have never been obsessed with another person before and I thought if I was with someone else maybe my attention was just a fixation because you were like a new toy, something that I would get bored of eventually. But that night when I was with Bellatrix, all I could think about was you. How I wished it was you in my arms, you that I was kissing and you that I would take to bed. And then when I thought I saw your beautiful eyes and a brief image of you in my mirror, I knew that I couldn't sleep with Bellatrix nor another person unless I wanted to drive myself mad for denying myself something that I want. And I want you, My Little Phantom." Tom implored.

It was the most that Harry, let alone anyone else, had ever seen Riddle looking so vulnerable.

It was all too much to process right now. Harry needed time and space to think.

"Please let me go." Harry whispers. "Please. I need space."

Riddle reluctantly and slowly moves off the smaller body beneath him, mourning the lost feeling of the younger male beneath him. Harry is still lying in the same spot but not daring to look at Riddle. The attic door closes and the silence is almost deafening with only Harry's wild heart beat beating within his ears. 

 

\\\

 

It has been five days since Riddle came to speak with Harry and after that there has been no attempt to speak with him. Harry was thankful for the time and space to wrap his mind and feelings around Riddle's... _confession._

Just the memory of it, makes Harry laugh albeit a bit hysterically. Harry has little doubt that Riddle wasn't being truthful, but would the man do if Harry rejected his affections? His gut is telling him that Riddle would do _anything_ to gain Harry's affections in return, forcefully or not. He has missed speaking with Riddle and Harry is too embarrassed to admit it even to himself that he really liked the feeling of Riddle being on top of him. He felt protected, like nothing could hurt him if he was in Riddle's strong arms.

His mind and emotions are a mess.

What to do? What to do?

It takes the rest of the day for Harry to go with his gut feeling. Hopefully, it is something he won't regret.

Quietly, Harry navigates through the secret passageway the leads straight to Riddle's room through the mirror. He can see the exit up ahead, but the memory of pain and betrayal from before makes him stop in nervousness. Harry takes deep breaths to steel his resolve. He could do this. He could do this.

Step by shaking step, he walls until he is only a foot away from the mirror.

Riddle is in his room reading a novel at his desk, completely relaxed and at ease and Harry can't help but think the Riddle looks handsome in the dim candlelight.

Slowly, he opens the door and sees Riddle's head snap up, eyes narrow, and body tense, ready to strike like a snake, until he completely relaxes when Harry is moving into the room. Riddle closes his nook and smiles charmingly. "My Little Phantom."

Harry closes the mirror before cautiously moving closer to Riddle. His heartbeat is running a thousand miles per minute as he moves closer and closer to the man in front of him. Harry is thankful that his mask is still on his face because he knows that it is completely red. Blue-grey eyes are watching his every movement and Riddle stays completely still as Harry moves his face closer and closer until their lips are only a few centimeters apart.

This is it. Once he accepts, there is no turning back, especially when it is Riddle.

Harry gathers as much of his courage he can before lightly pressing his lips to the other man's. Their eyes never leave each other, not even as Riddle takes over the kiss making it rough, desperate, possessive and dominating to Harry. Of course, Harry does his best to fight back, no matter how inexperienced he is. He doesn't register when large hands plant themselves on his hips and bring him to straddle Riddle's hips, where Harry can feel Riddle's growing arousal against his own.

Hands are moving over each other, and Harry is lost in the sense of pleasure and lack of air from the intense kiss he is receiving. He manages to break away for a few breaths before his mouth is once again captured. Harry wraps his legs around Riddle - no _Tom's_ waist as he is lifted up and carried towards the Queen sized canopy bed. 

Harry is nervous, he will admit, but it is forgotten as Riddle's skilled fingers slip underneath his shirt and play is his nipples. Harry's hands are not idle as they rove over Tom's firm shoulders and his abdomen before pulling Tom's shirt from his trousers. Clothing are lost in the process except for their trousers and Harry's mask. Tom's hand hovers over the edge of the mask, eyes asking a silent question. Harry hesitantly nods and the mask is slowly taken off until he is laid bare before Tom.

He is nervous if Tom won't like him because he is average and not beautiful or handsome like the others that Harry has seen hanging around Tom.

"Beautiful." Tom whispers as he kisses Harry's entire face and worshipping his body.

Harry feels like his entire body is on fire from Tom's touches and he doesn't want it to end but at the same time he does. By this time, both are devoid of all their clothes and Tom's skillful hands have him practically a puddle of goo. Soon Tom grabs a jar of scented oils which he excessively coats his fingers. Before Harry can ask what Tom is doing, his lips are being dominated, making him get lost in the euphoria until a burning sensation is present in a place he is not expecting. Harry hisses in pain and tears are welling up in his eyes.

"Sh. It's alright. Relax, My Little Phantom." Tom soothes as he kisses Harry's tears of pain away.

Harry can feel one finger become two and it is painful and Harry just wants it to end. What happened to the good feelings he was just having? He wants to focus on the kisses Tom is bestowing upon him but the pain is too much. He tries to relax like Tom wants and it helps to ease the pain a little bit until suddenly he arches off the bed, his vision is filled with stars and moaning loudly. Harry barely registers Tom's smirk as he keeps hitting that bundle of nerves, making him moan loudly and wantonly. Two fingers become three and soon they are moving in and out of his body and Harry can't helping whining when they leave.

He notices Tom lather his member before lining it up with his entrance and pressing in. It hurts as he is being stretched and filled with Tom. Inch by inch Tom pushes in until he is fully sheathed, staying still for Harry to get used to the pain and of being filled. It is only a few moments until Harry nods his head and Tom slowly pulls out before pushing back in. The steady rhythm continues until Tom hits that bundle of nerves once again, making Harry beg for more.

The pace gets harder and faster and soon both have lost themselves to the feel of each other, Tom's hips moving in erratic and punishing thrusts. And it feels like they have been going on like this for eternity until Harry feels a heat build deep within. Moans and groans sound within the room and it is like they were both made for each other. Soon, Tom uses one hand to pull on Harry's leaking and neglected member in a few tugs before he is spilling all over himself and Tom.

Tom continues on for a few more thrusts before he is spilling inside of Harry. It is a strange feeling being filled with Tom's seed but it makes Harry feel complete in a way he wasn't before. Tom falls to the side of his new and younger lover, not wanting to crush him and pulling his softening member out. Tom draws Harry closer to him as they bask in the after glow. Harry snuggles himself closer to Tom's warmth, no doubt going to sleep peacefully.

Tom kisses his forehead, before closing his eyes. "Goodnight My Little Phantom."

A minute passes.

"Harry. My name is Harry." Harry murmurs. It is only right that Tom know his real name, Harry thinks as he closes his eyes, missing the small genuine smile from Tom.

"Goodnight, Harry."  
                

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, kudos, etch etc. Did you guys enjoy it? Tell me what you guys thought. I've never written a smut scene before so I put as much detail as I could before I kinda just implied what happens because I'm sure everyone here can imagine how it would go. And sorry if it wasn't that good, like I said never written but read plenty of it. (We have dirty minds. LOL.)


	5. Author's Note, Please Read

So I don't know how to end this story. I actually have the last chapter halfway finished, but to me, it almost seems irrelevant to the rest of the story. 

Do you guys want the ending to be similar to the musical/movie? Or something more happy?

Any ideas are welcome, just so I can have a sense of what you guys are looking forward to for the end.


	6. Act 2, scene 3 and Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of lyrics are used from "City of the Dead" by Eurielle. These will be in italics, also parts of the song used are in Latin.
> 
> I'm sorry for the super late update. So I decided, F*** it, I'm just gonna write whatever I have and post it and hope people like it. There will be a sequel? Part two? Whatever you want to call it, but I don't know when. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is probably the longest one out of the entire story.

Nobles and wealthy middle-class attendees fill the seats, chatter buzzing all around. Many excited for the debut for the new opera, though they would never let it show upon their faces. They had a reputation to keep after all. The audience still has half an hour until the opera will begin, so for now, women in beautiful gowns and sparkling jewelry and men with slick backed hair and fancy suits, mingle together as they wait.

Harry is in Tom's dressing room, helping the older man make sure his costume is neat and put on correctly.

Harry is not surprised that Tom got the lead villain role, the evil Sorcerer Voldemort. It suits the arrogant and dark man quite perfectly, Harry thinks fondly. It is almost Show Time and Harry can't help but be excited for Opening Night. First of all, it is his birthday and Harry is now seventeen years old but also, because he has been anticipating this opera since the Head Administrator Albus Dumbledore proposed the Opera idea to the staff.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The insistent knocking startles them both - though Tom hides much better - before Harry quickly hides under the bed when the door begins to open without Tom's permission. Harry barely manages to hide in time before he can hear the quick shuffling of feet and the worried voice of Horace Slughorn, Hogwarts conductor.

"Oh Tom. It's just terrible! Really just terrible! To think that this would happen on opening night! What am I to do!?" Horace panics.

"What has happened Horace?" Tom demands, snapping the frantic man from his pacing and worry.

"Our lead protagonist has gotten sick! And we don't have an understudy! What are we to do?! The show begins in ten minutes and we don't have a lead protagonist! Oh the horror to have this happen on opening night!" Horace practically cries. "Hogwarts will be ruined!"

Harry listens attentively as Tom settles the man down, though a bit harshly. "Horace. Cease this blubbering at once."

Instantly, the portly man's attention is snapped the dark and intimidating young singer in front of him. Tom's sneer is quickly replaced with a charming smile, that it takes Horace by surprise. Horace privately tells himself that he just imagined the dark and sinister look of Tom Riddle.

"Everything will go perfectly to plan. I know the perfect person to play the lead role." Tom smiles as he leads Horace towards his door.  "Just let everyone know that I am bringing a replacement as soon as possible, alright?"

The man nods hesitantly before Tom closes the door on Horace's face. Tom sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

Cautiously, in case he needs to hide once again, Harry moves from under the bed until he is standing in front of Tom.

"Tom?"

Tom smiles much too charmingly and Harry can't help but be suspicious.

"Harry, it is time for you to make your début." Tom states proudly. "Show everyone why you have captured my interest, My Little Phantom."

Harry can only look at Tom in complete and utter speechless surprise, until Tom is about to drag Harry out of his bedroom.

"What?!" Is Harry's elegant reply.

 

\\\

 

The audience's breath holds deep within as the curtain rises. They watch attentively as the main protagonist warily but curiously gazes at his surroundings of the new place he has found himself. The audience is quite surprised to see an unknown person as the lead when they had been expecting the Famous Draco Malfoy.

They watch with critical eyes as the protagonist - _understudy -_  acts his role. 

They watch avidly as the music and performance has them literally transfixed.

 

It is a seemingly abandoned city that has been rumored to have a curse placed upon it, trapping all the citizens and all those unfortunate to wander within its walls for all eternity. Forever being ruled over by the evil Sorcerer Voldemort.

 

Soon, the other actors voices are heard as they whisper, _Leave at once! Hurry! Go back! Go back! Beware the Sorcerer! Beware!_ in the background as the protagonist, The Chosen One, wanders deeper and deeper into the city, seemingly alone in the haunted city. Though it is not for long as the villain, an evil Sorcerer appears, bargaining with the new person in hopes of gaining his soul. 

 

Harry is entranced with the how easily Tom becomes the evil Sorcerer. Almost as if the part was created with him in mind.

He had been worried when Tom suggested that he be the understudy for Draco Malfoy, especially when no one else beside Tom knew that he was the Opera Ghost. Of course, everyone had been doubtful of Harry's abilities and Harry didn't blame them but it was true that he knew the entire play by heart, having seen the rehearsals many times. The troupe would have probably argued more for someone else to be an understudy but the show was about to start in only for a few minutes, though their expressions explicitly showed that if he messed up this play, there was going to be hell to pay.

Unconsciously, Harry tightens his hands around his cloak, as Sorcerer Voldemort makes a deal with the Chosen One.

Makes a deal with _him._

_He can do this._

 

They become their roles, as if everyone has been transported to another world.

A world of magic, good versus evil.

How being on stage makes Harry's entire being vibrate with excitement and wariness.

A great journey the Chosen One will have to endure, finding Voldemort's seven soul pieces hidden deep with the city, never to be found. Many had tried and all had failed to destroy Voldemort's keys to immortality. The city was large and he only had a year to find each and everyone of them and destroy them.

The Chosen One is quick to begin his journey, though unsure on how he should begin. Looking in random places would take too long and he needed to gather what little information he could to find the missing soul pieces in the short amount of time he was given for their deal. Information is hard to come by, but the Chosen One manages to find a few citizens who are willing to help him destroy Voldemort. Two citizens, a young man and woman who are about the same age, volunteer to help and the Chosen One can't help but be grateful.

How the city sings as they search and search with what little information they had been given by one of the city's council members. A wise elderly man as he gave a clue to find more about Voldemort's past.

 

_'Rex tremendae majestatis Qui salavandos salvas Gratis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis.'_

 

The words they chant resonates within everyone's souls. How they wish to be saved. To finally pass on to the afterlife. The Chosen One can see their gaunt forms lingering in the streets and buildings, their bodies deteriorating while still being forced to stay as they are for eternity, walking corpses they have become.

 

_'Rex tremendae majestatis Qui salavandos salvas Gratis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis.'_

 

Their haunting eyes follow them everywhere as the trio tries to find the soul pieces. The Chosen One is close to losing hope a few parts along the journey, only finding two soul pieces because of luck. A Dairy and locket. Two months have nearly passed before they learn of three more. A Diadem, a cup and Voldemort's own personal snake. All three are located and hidden within Voldemort's castle. The trio decide to deal with those three last.

They find Voldemort's family ring hidden on the outskirts of town in a run down shack. They decide to burn the whole thing down along with the ring.

The soul pieces screams of terror, seem to resonate within their entire beings but at least they have rid one more of Voldemort's pieces.

 

_'Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus'_

 

The play continues on, the audience on the edge of their seats as the scenes unfold before their very eyes. And to Harry... this is a dream come true for him to perform upon Hogwarts' stage in front of a live audience instead of a single candle and empty theater. The lights, the acting, the songs, the costumes that blur by so fast, makes Harry feel as if _he_ really _is The Chosen One._

And Oh, how Tom expertly and almost frighteningly molds into the role of a dangerous overlord. 

 

_Quando tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus'_

 

Along the way, The Chosen One learns of the last and seventh soul piece made accidentally when he and his two companions find his dead parents trapped in the cottage that they were murdered in. His Father guards the stairs, intent on not letting anyone pass, though concedes when he sees the man his son has grown up into. It's his mother that really has The Chosen One stumble and falter.

Even in her decomposed state, The Chosen One cannot but help embrace the woman who gave her life for his.

In the confines of the nursery, does she impart a hint of Voldemort's last soul piece.

 

The Audience can see and _feel the anguish_ the protagonist projects as he and his two companions learn that the last soul piece had latched onto him just before his mother's magic had whisked him away from the cursed city.

 

The trio manage to sneak into Voldemort's castle and set fire to a treasured diadem and golden cup. The alarm alerts to everyone within the castle and they must run and hopefully, find the snake before they are caught. Guards and all those inside are forced to flee from the raging fire's path, though also trying to kill The Chosen One.

If they kill him, Voldemort whispers they will be free to pass on. _They want to pass on._

_'Damnata, invisus ubique Ab omnibus, Ad infinitum'_

 

Soon The Chosen One and Voldemort face off in battle, while a few of the villagers sneak off to slay the Sorcerer's beloved snake. 

 

A gleaming silver sword with red gemstones embedded with deadly venom swings true - its head lopped right off, body convulsing erratically as it turns to ashes. Voldemort screaming pain and anguish - _his soul gone and destroyed, death is coming for him, he needs to win, win, win! -_ before aiming to kill the blasted Chosen One.

He strikes. 

The Chosen One falls, victory is his! No one shall ever defeat him!

Victory is short lived when Voldemort walks over to the corpse, leaning down to float to his dead enemy, only to be surprised when a dagger has been lodged inside his abdomen.

"You lose." The Chosen One whispers into his ear.

Voldemort falls to the ground, motionless.

The citizens rejoice as the spell is broken and they are finally free. Before they crumple and depart, they give their wholehearted thanks until there is nothing left but an abandoned town and the The Chosen One standing alone.

 

_'Rex tremendae majestatis Qui salavandos salvas Gratis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis. Salve me, Fons Pietatis.'_

 

The curtain closes.

 

\\\

 

Cheers, pats and hugs are given to Harry every second since the show had ended that night. The actors bring out the cheap booze - bottles plenty to go around after a successful show - and offer a drink to their lead protagonist. Harry nervously accepts their thanks while politely declining the alcohol, every fiber of his being wants to run and hide back into his secret place.

It's too much too soon.

"What a successful show!! Just brilliant!! You all did wonderfully! But you, my dear boy, you were phenomenal!!" Horace gushes. "But why haven't you auditioned for Hogwarts before!? Tom, where ever did find this diamond in the ruff?!"

Tom smiled pleasantly. "I happened to stumble upon him one evening while he was dancing alone and I knew he would be a perfect addition."

Harry lightly scowled. Yeah, that night when he saw the rose, he almost had a heart attack.

Horace chuckled loudly. "Now dear boy, I think we would all appreciate it you had a name. After all, we just suddenly thrusted you into the spotlight. The crowd is going owing to know the name of their new star!" 

The actors still gathered around cheer and urge him to tell him his name.

Harry doesn't want to as his anonymity will be gone forever and that would give a clue to his horrid relatives and the police. But as everyone watches expectantly, he reluctantly does so.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Horace smile falters before their is nothing but a disbelieving look. Even the other actors stop their brief partying to stare at Harry in surprise.

Harry is a little apprehensive.

Tentatively Horace asks, "Forgive me if I seem rude, but may I know the names of your parents? Just an old man's curiosity, you see."

"James and Lily Potter."    

Horace gasps, catching his chest. "Oh Mr. Potter. Truly?"

Harry nods hesitantly. Murmurs sounded all around them and Harry was curious to why the names of his parents were important.

"After dear Lily had suddenly left after James murder, no one had known what had happened to her." Horace said. "Tell me Harry, how is your mother? Well I hope?"

"She's dead." Harry said bluntly. Best to get it over and done with. "She died when I was five from some disease. I was too young to really remember what it was. And I never knew my father."

Deciding that now wasn't the time for somber news and atmosphere, Horace smiled widely - so much so that it looked like it was painful for him - and clapped loudly. "Now, now. We just gave a successful performance! No need for a somber atmosphere, that can be saved for another day! Now let's toast to Harry ad Tom for such an exquisite performance that left the audience on the edge of their seats!"

Bottles raised high into the air, cheers going around, it amazed Harry how quick they all were to brush off a heavy topic. He appreciated it.

It was one thing to know that he never knew his father, but to learn that he had murdered, Harry planned on leaving when he wouldn't be noticed to process everything that had happened tonight. From his unknowingly début performance to learning that his parents were somehow connected with Hogwarts.

The celebrates raged on.

Harry had no doubt most of the staff would have massive hangovers the next day.

"Harry! You're a star!" Horace exclaimed, trying to drink elegantly from a bottle he snatched from somewhere. "I have no doubt that you'll be just as famous as our dear Tom! Maybe even surpass him! Albus will want to know about you, but tonight we celebrate! Ooh, Molly has just brought out the crystallized pineapple. Those are my favorite! Excuse me."

Harry stood awkwardly among the crowd, slowly easing to a hidden door only a few know about. Only the two actors - who were his companions in the play - continued to bug him on his technique and how he learned to sing like that. 

Harry regretted ever saying that he wanted to be part of the Hogwarts staff, he was better off being the Opera Ghost.    

Thankfully, Tom intervened and without so much as a glance to the other two, dragged Harry off back towards his room.

Once alone and away from prying eyes, Tom signed and undressed until he was only in a shirt and trousers, no doubt wanting to be comfortable in his sanctuary.

"You looked so lovely shining upon the stage, My Little Phantom. A gem for all to see." Tom said.

Harry gazed curiously at the older male, knowing that he was not finished with his thoughts.

"And yet, I can't help but want to hide you away back into obscurity, only allowing myself to gaze upon you. Now that the audience has had a taste of you, they'll demand more, like greedy vultures upon their prey." Tom said.

Harry could see the darkness lurking just beneath Tom's eyes, ready to burst out and create chaos upon those unworthy. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine, in fear or not, he wasn't entirely sure.

"But you belong to me." Tom whispered, stalking towards Harry like a predator. "You will always be mine. Mine to cultivate, mine to fuck, mine break, mine, mine, _Mine. Your Heart, Body and Soul belong to me._ " Tom hissed harshly into his ear, caging Harry's body within his arms.

Wrapping his arms around Tom's waist, Harry whispered. "Yes, I belong to you. Yours, yours, _Yours. For eternity._ "

.

.

Whether that was a good thing had yet to be determined.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, kudos, etch etc. Constructive criticism is also welcome. 
> 
> So after some consideration, I've decided that this story does deserve to be longer. Are you guys happy? I hope so. :)
> 
> This will be its own series but I haven't decided what to name it. And I'm not sure when I'll have time for updating the sequel.
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!


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